I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Alone At Last

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose in irritation, listening to the sounds of footsteps and gentle knocking from my back door. To my dismay, a few former members of my brief pack had chosen to stay behind; the rest had left in the middle of the night, but it seemed Sasha, the blue heeler dog and another had chosen to stay and bother me forever.

It had been peaceful the past few days, quiet and relatively innocuous, aside from the occasional attempt at communication. I was steadily growing tired of their attempts at rekindling relations – I didn't want a pack, nor did I want to be responsible for a couple of mutts. Why couldn't they just see that?.

"Alpha!" came a voice at the back door. "Alpha L/N!"

"I'm not your God damn Alpha!" I snarled at the perpetrator, simply wanting them to go away. I didn't recognize his voice as Sasha's, nor the blue heeler's rough voice.

"Alpha we, uh... we've been staying in the bunkhouse. Sasha went to town to get us bedding and groceries. She got you some groceries too since you haven't... left your house... she figured you might want them."

I sighed, praying to God to give me the strength to not shoot this nosy mutt. "I'm fine. I don't need groceries. I need you three to leave. This is my place, not yours," I hissed through gritted teeth. I had spoken to each of them individually throughout the past few days, and none of them seemed to get the hint.

I didn't want to be responsible for others – being responsible over my own actions was enough of a hassle.

"Alpha-"

"I'm not your Alpha!"

For a minute there was silence, but the dog did not retreat. He stayed at the door, patiently waiting. Minutes passed and I was beginning to think maybe he had left, and I just hadn't noticed.

"We don't care," came his soft voice, jarring me out of my thoughts. His voice was smooth, young, but it was coarse and reminded me so much of Dennis, in a way. He had used that same sweet tone, and yet didn't take shit from anyone.

"We don't care." He stated again, unafraid of retaliation – his voice, which had been a bit shaky with his first statement, was now firm. "You're the best chance we've got. Booth can fight, I can kinda fight, and Sasha... she's purely a pacifist. She nearly starved, y'know. Refused to eat human hearts, always hunted on her own. Booth too."

There was another long pause and I mulled over the kids' words. Did they really have nowhere they could go? If that really was the case, I doubted I was their best chance. Finally, I stood slowly, regretting each step I took towards the back door. The cool doorknob seemed to burn my hands as I wrenched it open, startling the boy who stood on my porch.

He was tall and lanky, likely no older than nineteen and appeared as though he had been turned only a few years ago. Maybe when he was sixteen? He had three distinct claw scars on his neck, dipping down into his blue shirt. His hair was fiery red and his eyes a deep green. Freckles dotted his nose and he had a sweet, gap-toothed grin.

"What's your name?" I asked the shocked boy, forest green eyes wide and mouth agape. He stammered, opening and closing his jaw like a fish on land.

"Andrew," he eventually managed to stammer out.

I turned away from him, leaving the door wide open and a confused boy in the doorway. "Come on in, Andrew," I invited, struggling to keep the bitterness out of my voice. It didn't appear they were going to leave anytime soon – might as well get to know them.

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I watched in fright, wrapped in only a towel, as a tiny woman rushed around my home with a feather duster gripped tightly in hand.